Before the Moon Falls
by TheQuietAwakening
Summary: It was happening again. The Devil was coming for his revenge, coming for her, and Blaise needed her to be safe. She was the reason he breathed, the reason he lived, the only light he had left in the world. And he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant remembering.


**This chapter was written as a standalone for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 7, to be later expanded. **

**Round 1 – Not My Department**

**Team - Wimbourne Wasps**

**Chaser 1 prompt – Department of International Magical Cooperation: Write about two or more people from different walks of life working together in some way.**

**Optional prompts – (object) newspaper, (word) enlighten, (object) mismatched socks**

**Word Count - 2970**

**A huge thanks to my wonderful teammates savedprincess85 and Hemlockonium who beta'd this chapter!**

* * *

Blaise Zabini's heart thudded wildly against his ribcage, his hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Who knew moving on would be the most daunting task he would ever face? As he stood, staring at the final piece of furniture in his bedroom, there were few times he could remember that he was as terrified as he was right now. This was the moment he had to open the box and feel everything again; everything he had been trying so damn hard to avoid. But there was no avoiding it any longer.

The smooth dark wood of the night table taunted him. Its drawer held something he had hidden away years before and had never opened since, afraid its contents would utterly destroy him. He had thought about simply packing the drawer away without the agony of remembering, but he had promised himself that when he left this house, he would revisit the drawer and finally let go. But did he have it within himself now?

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" A five-year-old girl with tan skin and bouncy brown hair bounded into the room.

Instantly, Blaise's heart melted.

"Hey, my little moon," he said, pulling the girl into his arms and spinning around. "Are you all ready to go?"

"Yup!" she nodded, a grin on her tiny face.

"Alright, Daddy's just got to pack this one last thing, and I'll be there in a bit. Go outside and wait with Uncle Draco," he told her. "Why don't you sing him your favourite song?"

"Okay!" the little girl eagerly agreed.

She placed a big sloppy wet kiss on his cheek as Blaise set her back down on the floor. He watched as she skipped from the room, a smile playing across his lips. Only she could bring him back from the brink of despair in a single moment, simply by existing. She was everything that was still right about his world.

Blaise turned back to the dreaded drawer, took a deep breath, and slowly pulled it open. With trembling fingers, he gently lifted the small pile of newspaper clippings from their hiding place. _COUPLE TAKES DOWN RADICAL GROUP, _the headline read. And there she was; the woman who would change his life forever.

* * *

**7 years ago…**

"Do you, by any chance, have some Draught of Peace?"

Blaise sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't even have to turn around to recognise that voice. Airy and polite, light in tone, there was no way he wouldn't find Loony Lovegood standing in the shop. He was about to close up too! Blaise hated having the last shift of the evening. There was always that one annoying customer who came in at just the wrong time.

Blaise placed the small vial of Pepperup Potion he had just finished on the shelf, moved to the draught section, and pulled down a glass bottle.

"Better make that three," the woman decided.

"Fine, three vials Draught of Peace," Blaise huffed, taking down two more. He turned and placed all three on the counter. "Experiencing some anxiety, are you?"

He wasn't sure why he asked. It wasn't as though he really cared.

"Not me," she replied a bit sadly. "My father. He's gotten somewhat tense since the war."

"Haven't we all," Blaise mumbled under his breath.

"Indeed," she responded softly. Her silvery-blue eyes seemed to pierce into him. "You appear to have done alright. I believe you always did enjoy potions, am I correct?" Lovegood prodded kindly.

Blaise simply gave a curt nod. He had always been good at brewing potions, and it was a profession in which he had hoped not to have to interact with too many people. He liked the idea of it being only himself and his potions. People were annoying. On the one hand, there were the Mudbloods and blood traitors, with whom he wished to have as little contact as possible. On the other were the Death Eaters, who had followed the every whim of a madman. Blaise had very quickly lost any respect for the cowards. No, he had always been better off on his own.

Lovegood continued to look at him with a small, knowing smile. It was strange to be looked at instead of through, to be seen. Normally, when people came to The Brewer, they got what they wanted and left, barely saying a word. Blaise couldn't say he necessarily liked the attention. He preferred life in the shadows, and Lovegood was one of the types of people he had always avoided. She may be pure-blood by birth, but her beliefs of equality made her a blood traitor, not to mention all the other ways she was more than a bit strange. Granted, there was always something about her that a small part of him couldn't make up his mind about. Lovegood was terribly naïve, overly serene, and was raised with a disgusting disregard for her own status. But she was also somehow above all the teasing and bullying that got thrown her way, all the comments seeming to roll right off her shoulders. Now, having taken over The Quibbler from her father, that tabloid continued to be the only source of news that would discuss anything but raving reviews of the new government. Her recent work was something he could almost appreciate. If she had different views on Muggles, he might have respected her. Probably not, but maybe.

She had grown into quite a nice-looking lady, having dropped the radishes that used to hang from her ears and the butterbeer cork from around her neck, and she dressed almost professionally. Almost. She still liked her rather large jewellery and vibrant colours, but at least she was a bit less obnoxious about it.

"That'll be five sickles and two knuts," Blaise told her pointedly.

"I haven't seen much of you in the past little while," Lovegood noted as she searched for the correct coins in her small handbag. "But then again, you did tend to keep a low profile, even in school."

Why did she keep trying to converse with him? For some reason, it had Blaise on edge. Did she think he had grown up differently from his Slytherin peers, that he didn't hold those same beliefs? If so, she was sadly mistaken. He simply wasn't as verbal about it as some of the others in his year.

Lovegood smiled sweetly as she handed him the coins. Blaise couldn't help but smirk at her friendly expression.

"Well, I hope you have a wonderful evening," she said, grabbing the three vials from the counter and gently placing them into her bag.

Again, Blaise was slightly taken aback by how genuine that wish sounded. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had told him to have a good anything and had actually meant it.

Then, the world exploded. Windows were smashed, the door blasted off its hinges, vials of potion shattered on the shelves, sprinkling a shower of glass down around them. Curses erupted all around, lighting the shop in multicoloured flashes. One by one, three figures in dark, flowing robes entered The Brewer, wands now aimed at Blaise and Lovegood. They wore masks that eerily reminded him of Death Eaters with a twist; jet black with bright golden carvings, an almost royal version of what those insane bastards used to wear.

Before Blaise could even react, Lovegood had sprung into action, skillfully wielding non-verbal spells, one after another, at their attackers. One assailant quickly dropped to the ground, stunned. Did he know that she was such a competent dueller? He guessed he had never paid much attention.

"_Stupefy!" _He cast the spell as he leapt over the counter. "_Reducto!"_

Though the two remaining attackers were quite skilled themselves, easily deflecting the offensive spells, together, Blaise and Lovegood were able to regain some ground, pushing them back toward the street.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lovegood drop to the ground to avoid an incoming Blasting Curse, causing more glass to explode behind them. At the same moment, she fired one of her own, catching the shoulder of one of the dark figures, who howled in pain. There was only one remaining, and Blaise knew that between the two of them, this fight would be over soon.

That hope was replaced with dread as more masked figures slowly stepped out from the dark cover of the night, filing into the shop with wands drawn and ready to attack.

"Shit," Blaise cursed under his breath. There were too many of them!

They needed to get out of there, fast. He locked eyes with Lovegood, subtly gesturing for her to follow. He had an idea for how they could buy themselves enough time to at least come up with some sort of plan. On a silent count of three, Blaise made a run for it, dashing back behind the counter and past his destroyed brewing station. Glancing back, he saw Lovegood close behind him, blocking curses as they were cast after them.

Blaise sprinted into the storage room, hid behind the door frame, and waited for Lovegood to slide in before slamming the door shut and immediately beginning to build wards around the room. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get them up quickly enough, but with Lovegood working alongside him, they were soon safe, at least for the moment. Blaise didn't know how long they would hold up against whoever was after them, but they had bought themselves a bit of time. Oh, how he wished they could simply Apparate, but the theft-prevention Anti-Apparition spell on the shop kept them trapped inside. Since it was too much to ask for people to be decent human beings, that spell had the two stuck in a life-threatening situation.

With a final flick of her wand, Lovegood cast a Silencing Spell, leaving the room quiet except for their quick huffs of breath.

"What the hell was that?" Blaise asked into the air, bracing himself against the door as he tried to regain enough composure to come up with something.

"I'm not quite sure," Lovegood replied thoughtfully.

He glanced at her. She seemed mostly unharmed except for a small cut on her forehead, probably due to the flying glass.

For whatever reason, her response to that rhetorical question sent red-hot anger boiling up inside him. It had to be her they were after. It had to be!

"I am not a target!" Blaise shouted. "I have kept my head down, stayed out of the media after the war, I didn't even choose sides!" He flung his hands up in frustration, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Hmm," Lovegood began. "Perhaps that's exactly the point."

"Excuse me?" He raised a brow sceptically. Her expression told him she knew something, something she wasn't sure if she should say. "Please, enlighten me," he sneered.

"Well," she began hesitantly. "I've been trying to gain some information about this new group for an article. The Ministry has been trying to keep it quiet, don't want to raise panic after everything we've lived through, but I think the public deserves to know. You know, so they can protect themselves," she explained.

"So, it _is _your fault!" Blaise accused, stabbing a finger at her chest.

"Not necessarily," she calmly countered, gently pushing his hand down. "If it's me they're after, they've had many opportunities outside of tonight; opportunities that would have had me much more isolated. No, something tells me I'm not the one they're after. This is your workplace, after all."

"But I'm not…"

"You'd be the perfect recruit," Lovegood suggested.

"Recruit? Recruit for what!" She was the target. She had to be! He had been so careful. All he wanted to do was live his life, alone, in peace. Why did people always have to ruin it?

"I don't know exactly. You were never a part of the original Death Eaters, correct?" she answered. He grunted his reply. "So, the Ministry wouldn't have its eye on you. Therefore, perfect recruit for whatever it is they want."

"I beg to differ," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Lovegood just stared at him with an infuriating look that asked if this was really the time to argue. She was right, of course. They needed to focus more energy on their escape than on fighting each other, but that didn't mean her insinuation wasn't enraging.

"Fine," he sneered. "Any bright ideas on how we can get out of here?"

The silence between them spoke louder than words. It was almost comical; they were trapped in a storage room containing potions and ingredients that could be used as weapons, just not in this particular situation. Dangerous potions would only be effective if ingested, and the ingredients were harmless after they had been extracted and contained.

"Billywig stings," she said, glancing up at the shelf above his head. Sure enough, there was a jar of small pointed stings, just waiting to be launched at their pursuers. Lovegood levitated the jar down and popped open the lid.

It was a brilliant idea. Their effects of giddiness and levitation would at least make for a wonderful distraction. But then again, neither of those things prevented them from casting curses.

"You really think we can sting enough of them and make our escape while the distraction lasts, before getting hit with a Killing Curse ourselves?" It was insane to think of simply running back out there, armed with nothing more than their wands and some Billywig stings. "It's a suicide mission!"

"Maybe." Lovegood tilted her head to the side, thinking. "But maybe not. If you noticed, none of the spells they were casting our way were all too terrible. It seemed they were fine with injuring, but killing, I'm not so sure. Again, I think it makes more sense that they want to intimidate and recruit."

Blaise wasn't okay with those odds. Lovegood _thought _the people cursing up the shop _might _not be trying to kill them, only injure. Well, he didn't know about her, but he didn't care to be disfigured today!

"I'm still not following you out there." They needed something more, something bigger. But there simply wasn't a lot for them to use in that storage room.

"Well," she shrugged. "If you have a better plan…" She let the words hang in the air.

Blaise felt the first crack of their protective wards over the room and knew they were running out of time.

He didn't have a better plan, and he hated it. This madwoman was about to get him killed; he just knew it.

"We can't just stay in here forever," she said softly. "And I think together, we do stand a chance. We make a good team," Lovegood finished with a smile.

They did _not _make a good team. No, he took it back; this was a bad idea, a terrible idea. He was not about to put his life in the hands of a blood traitor, let alone this one, who may or may not be mentally unstable.

"I know you don't like me," Lovegood remarked blatantly. "I hope that one day you might realise that you and I really aren't so different."

"You and I are nothing alike," Blaise sneered.

"We're a pair of mismatched socks." Blaise stared at her in utter confusion as she lifted her robes slightly to reveal the two different colours of stockings she was wearing. "Just because the two don't match, doesn't mean they aren't both clothing that cover my feet, or that they can't work excellently together inside my shoes."

Blaise rolled his eyes. Of course, she would come up with some silly metaphor right now.

"Fine, let's get this over with," he said. "If this doesn't work…" He let the threat hang in the air.

"If it doesn't work, at least we tried," she chimed in that annoying tone.

"You better be right that they don't want to kill us," he threatened.

"I hope so too," she quietly replied. "Are you ready?" she asked in a stronger voice.

Blaise swallowed, tightened his hand on his wand, and prepared for another fight. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Together, they burst from the storage room, attacking their fate head-on, Billywig stings flying through the air and spells on the tips of their tongues.

* * *

**Present**

Blaise stared down at his feet with a smile. His socks, one a dark navy blue and one light grey, were a tribute that he continued to wear daily. It was how he held onto the progress he had made, onto the freedom that change had brought, onto her. She had been right. They did make a good team, whether he had wanted to believe it or not. That night had been the beginning of an adventure that would shape the rest of his life.

_"Please, enlighten me."_

He had had no idea how much the sarcastic remark had been a genuine subconscious plea. He could have never expected that in the time to come, that strange woman would transform his bitter existence and enlighten his soul with the possibility of peace, joy, and light.

Blaise swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and sucked in a breath. Carefully, he held onto the pieces of newspaper as he levitated the night table from the room.

"You alright, mate?" Draco asked as Blaise walked from the house, leaving it behind.

Blaise sighed. "Maybe, someday."

Maybe, someday.

"Ready now, Daddy?" the little girl asked cheerfully, grabbing his large hand in her two small ones and yanking as hard as she could.

"You got the Portkey ready?" he asked Draco.

"You're good to go," the man replied.

Blaise just nodded, then looked down at his wide-eyed daughter.

"Ready to go."

* * *

**Author's note:**

**I hope you all really enjoyed this story! The prompts for this round inspired a story that was far more complex than what I was able to portray in the limit of 3000 words. I tried to contain this chapter as a story of its own with enough given information and foreshadowing that it can stand alone, and I really hope I achieved that for the competition. That being said, I am planning to continue this story and make it a multi-chapter fic. I have a good idea of where I want to go with it and I am super eager to share it with you! It is a pairing that I have never written before, but I am really excited to give it a go! Please leave me a review to tell me how I'm doing!**


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